All right, well…I missed writing a story yesterday. Or actually, I missed posting a story yesterday because truth is that I did write one. It was about three guys who walk into a bar, a hero, a fool and a ghost. The bartender gets this bad feeling. Why did he have to pull this shift, he thinks. Why couldn’t the other guy be working the bar now? See he knows these characters are going to ask for difficult drinks, and he’s right.
The hero wants a pint of dragon’s blood. So the bartender goes and he kills a dragon and he fills a pint glass with its blood. Brings it to the hero. Hero doesn’t even say thanks.
Then the fool orders a glass of bull’s milk. This kind of throws the bartender for a loop, then it dawns on him that he has to go milk a bull. He looks at the clock to see when his shift ends, to see if he can’t waste time until the other guy’s shift starts. But he can’t…so…off he goes. You can imagine the process. (I would encourage you not to.)
So the bartender returns and gives the fool his drink and the fool goes around to each table in the place and gets people to pay him every time he takes a swig.
By this time the bartender is dealing with serious burns, his clothes are covered in bull shit, he is seriously considering a change in occupation. He checks the clock again, five minutes left in his shift, thank the gods.
"What will you have?" the bartender says to the ghost.
"Nope," said the ghost, "You misunderstand. I’m an ingredient. A hard spirit."
"Hah hah," says the bartender. He’d left his sense of humour in the bullpen. “That’s a good one. What will you have?" He glances at the clock again. His replacement should be here any second.
"I just need an empty bottle to haunt," says the ghost.
Really pissed off at this point, in no mood for jokes, the bartender slams down an empty bottle of whiskey. The ghost hops in. It makes one of those annoying moaning noises, which just echoes really loudly inside the bottle until the bartender puts a cork in it.
This has been one hell of a shift, the bartender thinks. Then he hears a voice, "What’s a princess got to do to get a drink around here?" He looks over and there at the end of the bar is the most beautiful princess that ever lived.
"Sorry," says the bartender, regretting his more than lacklustre appearance. "What can I—?"
"Hey!" It’s his replacement, strolling in behind the bar, fresh and clean and snappy. "Looks like you could use a shower," he says to the original bartender. To the princess he says, "Majesty, what can I get for you?"
"I heard," she says, giving him a sly look from under her long lashes, "you guys do those one-night-stand love potions?"
"Oh, yes," the new bartender says. "Would be my pleasure," he says.
“Well, I hope you don’t hog all of it,” she says. “I’d like some pleasure too.” She gives him a look hotter than dragon’s breath. “If you know what I mean.”